The 10,000 Alarm Emergency
by ardavenport
Summary: An early morning call for the men of Station 51, a 10,000 alarm emergency.


**The 10,000 Alarm Emergency**

by ardavenport

* * *

Ooooooooooommmmmm - BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!

Lights came up. Firemen came up next, hastily putting on pants and shoes ready by their beds.

"Station 51. Man trapped in vehicle. Sagebrush Lane off of La Brea Avenue. North of Stocker Street."

When the squad and the truck came screaming out of the firehouse, Paramedic John Gage saw that it was still dark. He checked his watch. 4:53 AM.

"Oh man, can't these people get trapped in their vehicles at a decent hour?" He rubbed his eyes tiredly and readjusted his fire helmet. His partner, Roy Desoto shrugged as he turned the squad in the wake of Engine 51, blaring ahead of them.

"The early bird gets the worm, I guess."

"As long as we don't have to rescue that, too."

At least at this hour there was almost no traffic. The few cars that were out pulled far over to the side and stopped, giving the emergency vehicles plenty of room as they headed for the hills. They slowed down when they got to La Brea and Gage looked carefully looked at every pole and sign though flashing red lights were terrible to read by and this part of L.A. County had more empty lots, brush and tall dry grass than streetlights.

They passed Stocker, going north. Engine 51 turned to the left onto a barely paved road and Roy turned the squad to follow. After that they just went to the flashing lights of the police car.

Captain Hank Stanley was already talking to the police officer as Gage and De Soto got out their equipment boxes. The Captain waved for them to follow while Firemen Kelly and Lopez took out equipment from the truck.

" - - - he's been camping here for a few weeks." The police officer jogged ahead of them. Gage didn't know him. "Woke up early from a drunk and decided it was too cold to go out. Thought he could take a quick leak from inside and he got stuck."

John Gage looked up at the abandoned and rusting school bus among the weeds and grass, illuminated on one side by the police car's headlights. The police officer went in. They followed.

" - - - Somebody got lost and took a wrong turn. Heard him yelling for help. Took one look and drove out of here as fast as he could to call us."

Stanley and the police officer carried flashlights. Trash, bottles and the remains of a campfire littered the inside in an open area where some of the seats had been taken out. Gage wrinkled his nose at the strong odor of liquor and feces and the ammonia smell of old urine. The victim knelt by one side of the bus.

"I ain't no perv! I ain't no perv!" He had a round and dirty face, thinning, graying hair and his face crumpled into piteous tears. He wore worn and grimy clothes and he had obviously soiled himself badly.

"Oh!" Captain Stanley flinched for only a moment before he returned his flashlight beam back to where the officer pointed. Gage and De Soto slowly knelt on either side of the victim, setting their boxes and fire helmets down on the floor of the bus.

The man had his lower body pressed to the outside wall of the bus, his pants undone and sagging down. He did not seem to be wearing any underwear.

"I can't get it out! It's stuck! I just wanted to take a quick piss! I swear I ain't no perv!"

There were rusted holes in the side of the bus and the victim had chosen a larger one. But apparently it had not been large enough.

De Soto reluctantly looked to the officer. "Um, could you hold that here?" The officer obliged and the flashlight showed exactly where the man was trapped. And what was trapped.

"Uh, Sir. We're going to get you out of here." The 'comfort-the-victim' words came out automatically, but Gage cringed as he said them. He could see abrasions and red marks and jagged, sharp rusty metal edges pressed into the man's skin. In a very delicate place for a man.

De Soto looked up to his superior. "Captain, can you go outside and see if there's any way you can maybe help free him from outside?"

"Yeah." Stanley nodded and hurriedly left.

Gage opened the radio box. "Rampart General, this is Squad 51."

"Rampart General." Gage recognized the voice of a night shift nurse who had turned him down for a dinner date three times.

"We have a male victim." Gage paused. "Sir, how old are you?"

"Uuuh, uuh, uuummm, forty-three. About."

"We have a male victim approximately forty-three years of age."

De Soto wrapped the blood pressure cuff around the man's arm. "Breathing is 50. Pulse is 85."

"Breathing is 50. Pulse is 85."

De Soto pulled off the cuff. "Blood pressure is 160 over 110."

"Blood pressure is 160 over 110. Victim is agitated and has . . . . a part of his body trapped."

Gage exhaled with the relief when he heard the voice of Doctor Mike Morton from the radio. "Squad 51, where is the victim trapped?"

"Rampart. . . . . the victim has his. . . . penis caught in a hole in the side of an abandoned bus." It was a medical term. It was a medical term. It was a perfectly professional medical term.

Silence.

"Say what?"

"Rampart the victim has his penis," it came out easier the second time, "trapped in a hole on the side of an abandoned bus."

"I ain't no perv! I ain't no perv!"

"We know that. We know that. We're just trying to get you out of this. If you can just stay calm, everything will be alright." De Soto tried a fairly ineffective pat on the shoulder to calm him.

The man's outburst changed immediately to a pleading whimper, a sincere attempt to cooperate. "I ain't no perv. I ain't no perv."

"Squad 51. Do you have access to the patient?"

"Affirmative, Rampart. But I don't think we can treat him until we get him free."

"I can imagine. Notify when you do, Squad 51."

De Soto saw wavering flashlight beams in the darkness outside through the dirty window of the bus that faced away from the police car lights.

"Whoa, CAPTAIN!!!"

"Shut UP, Kelly! We need to figure out a way to get him out of this."

"But CAPTAIN!!"

"That's enough!"

"Oh, man. . . . " Marco expressed his shock more quietly. De Soto only heard fragments of the conversation that followed.

". . . . all one piece . . . ."

". . . . connected here . . . . "

". . . . we don't want to get too close . . . ."

". . . . if we cut it, that'll just heat up the metal, Cap . . . . "

"Gage. De Soto. I don't think we can cut him out without hurting him. There's a lot of . . . . swelling out here."

"Thanks, Captain!" De Soto turned worried eyes to his partner.

Swelling. Swelling. Swelling. Gage perked up. "Ice!"

Elated by his partner's inspiration, De Soto took up the call. "Ice! Captain! Do you think you can get some ice? We can take the swelling down and pull him out from in here!"

"Good idea!"

Most of the firemen voices and flashlights moved off though one light remained. It was not Kelly. He continued to express his unhappiness as he left.

"I'm blind. I'm going to be blind. . . . ."

The victim looked to Gage with pleading, bloodshot eyes. "Oh please, don't cut it off. I didn't mean anything. I ain't no perv."

"Nothing's going to happen to you. We're going to get you out of here. Just stay calm - - -"

"I think I might faint. . . . . "

"Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no!" Both paramedics hastily grabbed the suddenly swaying man. Gage looked up to the officer.

"Give us a hand!"

The police officer, clearly reluctant to get too close to the smelly, filthy man, grabbed him under the arms and helped support him from behind.

They waited in the darkness and reflected light from the flashlights. The victim recovered from his faint. Gage and De Soto spoke the usual words of comfort to a distressed victim, who constantly whimpered his embarrassment. He surprisingly did not demand any drugs to relieve his excruciating situation. But his strong breath reeked of alcohol and the paramedics silently supposed that he was already somewhat self-anesthetized, though Gage doubted that anything short of a coma could blot out that kind of pain.

The man's name was Frank Gower. He was just going through a bad patch. He thought it was supposed to be warm in California. He had been in the marines. And he wasn't a perv.

The police officer's name was Jack Carson. He had never seen anything like this. He had been in the army. And his partner was in the squad car. The sky was just starting to get light in the east.

They heard the fire engine returning. And another siren. An ambulance arriving.

"Got plenty of ice!" Stanley hefted a big bag. Far more than they needed. "They're going to put some on outside, too."

De Soto peered out of the dirty window where more flashlights and firemen had returned.

"How are we going to do this?"

"Just hold it there."

"Cover that up, please. Oh, this is sick." Kelly had not let up on his complaining.

"Shut up, Kelly." Marco seemed to have gotten tired of it.

Gage looked discouraged at the enormous ice bag until Stanley pulled out from under his arm a box of smaller plastic bags that had been ripped open. He filled a couple of them and handed them over. Stray ice cubes clattered on the floor. Gage laid one bag on top and De Soto held the other under it.

Gage patted Frank's arm. "It won't be long now. Just hang on." Frank hung on.

De Soto heard a voice outside. "Is it working?"

"Uh, Roy! Gage! I think it's smaller!" Marco sounded uncertain.

Gage lifted his bag to see. They experimentally tried pulling back on Frank's arms, but he tensed.

"Wait." Gage waved to Roy. "Get some tongue depressors. And some ointment."

De Soto uncertainly held them up.

"Put some on the tongue depressors and we'll slide them in and get him out that way."

They ended up needing four tongue depressors. One on top. One on the bottom. Two on the sides.

"Oooh, that feels good."

Gage winced. Roy cringed. They ignored Frank and kept their heads down and kept working.

Frank almost fainted again when he came free.

"Rampart. We have the victim free. He has some abrasions and shallow gashes on his penis and. . . . . testicles." It's a medical term. It's a medical term. It's a medical term. "But there isn't a lot of bleeding."

Frank looked like he was going into shock and Doctor Morton advised them to cover the wound and administer I.V. lactate, D5W. Gage and De Soto carried him out of the bus to the waiting stretcher. Stanley and Carson followed with their equipment and helmets.

The ambulance driver grimaced when he saw what was coming, but they took off the victim's soiled pants and filthy coat before laying him down on the stretcher. Gage started the I.V. on one arm that had an enormous flag-and-eagle, 'sempre fi' tattoo on it before they loaded Frank into the ambulance. The firemen and police lined up to watch. Kelly sneered. Stanley remained professional. Marco and Stoker looked somewhere in between.

"I ain't no perv. I ain't no perv."

Gage climbed into the back with Frank and notified Rampart that they were in transit. Rampart acknowledged and the ambulance accelerated, starting up its siren.

The confined space inside the ambulance intensified Frank's stink. The attendants were both sitting in the front. The police, who would later take Frank into custody for vagrancy, were following in their own car. Roy had to drive the squad in. The rest of Station 51 were going back to the firehouse.

One of Frank's grubby hands grabbed Gage's arm.

"Thanks for gettin' me outta' that tight spot."

"Well, we're just doing our job. Now you just relax and we'll be at the hospital real soon."

Frank's eyes watered. "I'm glad there're still people who will come to a guy's aid when he needs it."

Patting the man's hand in return, Gage suddenly felt strong sympathy for Frank. Even though he smelled like an alcoholic sewer, a simple 'thank-you' went a long way.

The sky had brightened when they arrived at the emergency entrance to Rampart General Hospital. As soon as they were out of the ambulance, Frank went back to his pleading declaration that he was no perv.

* * *

**%%% ^^^^^^^^^ %%% ^^^^^^^^^ %%%**

* * *

Doctor Early and Doctor Brackett, both just arrived for the early morning shift, went to where Doctor Morton signaled them from the doorway of treatment room two.

"You're not going to believe what the paramedics just brought in."

Curious they followed him in. Morton told them the patient's name, Frank Gower.

They saw a grubby middle aged man on the table tightly clutching a sheet covering him and fretfully fending off Nurse Dixie McCall and a young petite female nurse's aide. The smell of the patient strongly challenged the hospital antiseptics.

"We just need to clean you up enough for the doctors to examine you," Dixie placated, but Brackett heard the edge of impatience in her voice.

"No, no! This is MAN stuff!"

Exasperated, Dixie looked to the newcomers. Brackett stepped forward.

"Mister Gower, I'm Doctor Brackett. This is Doctor Early. We understand you have a sensitive injury, but the nurses here are trained professionals. I assure you - - - "

"Not this! This is MAN business! I don't need no women for that!"

Dixie rolled her eyes. Morton lowered his eyes and grinned. Brackett held up a calming hand.

"All right. That's your choice. I trust you don't mind if I look at your injury?"

The patient gave him a jittery nod. Brackett stepped up and lifted the sheet.

He drew his head back. Then he quickly suppressed the reaction. Doctor Early stepped to the side and Brackett raised the sheet a little higher for a better look. Early started as well, but covered it with a genial doctor's smile.

"Well, that's not too bad. We should have you fixed up in no time." But Mr. Gower did not respond to Doctor Early's reassurance. He just tensely stared up at the ceiling.

"It shouldn't even need stitches." Dixie had come around the table for a look under the sheet, too.

"Aaaahh!!!"

"Hey, hey, hey!" Morton rushed forward to keep Mister Gower from cringing off of the table. Brackett grimaced and dropped the sheet.

"Uh, Dix. I think we should probably handle this by ourselves."

She put her hands on her hips. Thinking about what women had to reveal to their male doctors, Dixie found the whole situation ridiculous. But if the doctors wanted to do the dirty work and clean up this patient themselves, she was happy to leave them to it.

"Well, I'll leave him in your good hands, Doctors." She nodded to each of the men. She and the aide left.

* * *

**%%% ^^^^^^^^^ %%% ^^^^^^^^^ %%%**

* * *

The shower felt good. Fresh clothes, and blue uniform shirts felt even better. By the time Gage and De Soto were cleaned up breakfast was ready and laid out on the firehouse's big kitchen table. Pancakes. Scrambled eggs. Sausages.

"Did they take care of that guy at the hospital?" Stoker handed Gage a couple plates.

"Oh, yeah. He'll be fine. But I don't think he's going to want any of the nurses treating him."

"Then I think the cops are going to get him." Roy accepted the second plate from his partner. They helped themselves to breakfast and took seats at the table.

Captain Stanley walked in.

"Uh, Roy, John, I'm having a little trouble . . . . describing that run this morning. What would you say it was?" He held up a partially filled out report sheet and pen.

"I'd call it a horror show. A bad one." Kelly bit off the end of a sausage link.

"Oh, yeah, Cap. I thought of something when were doing the paperwork at the hospital." Gage got up and cheerfully took the pen and paper.

Roy grinned. "It's pretty good. Stroke of genius, even."

"I'm just glad he thought of the ice." Stanley peered over Gage's shoulder as he wrote.

Marco hastily finished chewing his bite of pancake and swallowed. "You really saved us with that."

"Speak for yourself. I'm going to have nightmares about it for weeks." Kelly finished his sausage link.

"There you go, Cap." Gage proudly stepped back to admire his work. Stanley and the others leaned forward to read the description.

***** EXTRACTION, WITH OINTMENT, ICE AND TONGUE DEPRESSORS. *****

* * *

**%%% ^^^^^ END ^^^^^ %%%**

All characters belong to whoever owns the 1970's TV show Emergency!; I am just playing in their sandbox.


End file.
